


welcome to the new age

by wewouldremembertonight



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 100 Themes Challenge, Aftermath of Torture, Comfort/Angst, Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, Multi, Romance, but then some are not so fluffy, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewouldremembertonight/pseuds/wewouldremembertonight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an on-going collection of 100 drabbles for the ships of the 100.<br/>For deviantArt's 100 themes challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. excuse my introduction, my head forgets to function

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tracylaurencook](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tracylaurencook).



> 100 Themes Challenge: 
> 
> 1\. Introduction

His name was Lincoln. 

 _Lincoln_  

He had a name, which was weird to her because it sounded just so normal - like any other name you would find. The way he had said it, it had desperation hidden behind it and yet relief as well - she would remember him through a name, she would remember him as a person rather than some disgusting animal like Bell made him out to be. 

 _I'm Octavia_  

She didn't know why she had said that - as if they were just meeting for the first time instead of the two of them being in their predicament. But she seemingly had the same need as he did; she wanted him to remember her as a person as well. As Octavia Blake, not the girl hidden under the floorboards. And she hoped he was remembering their little introduction as well, as she stared into the endless sky, as Bellamy wrapped a stupidly warm blanket around her shoulders. As if it would make it better.

Lincoln and Octavia.

Two names.

But to them, it was the most important thing in the world.


	2. love is pure, the only treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an on-going collection of 100 drabbles for the ships of the 100.  
> For deviantArt's 100 themes challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 Themes Challenge:
> 
> 2\. Love

Raven had thought that Finn was the only one she had left. That he was the love of her life and her family. It’d always been that way, even when they were kids. He always seemed to fill in the gap that was her mostly absent mother, was always there for her as she was for him.

It was sort of natural that they fell in love with each other - childhood sweethearts in the darker, poorer parts of the Ark. So that’s why she always thought she was enough - enough for him.

When she arrived on Earth, however, she found out that things were different. That her boyfriend - her best friend for as long as she could remember - had slept with another girl. Clarke - the princess - of all people. What was so special about their princess that made Finn cheat on her?

Her mind filled in the blanks for one moment, thinking of the suggestion that maybe he wanted to fuck a upperclass, richer slut like her. But she immediately dismissed that idea - that was cruel and mean, even if it was about her. Clarke wasn’t like that and Raven wasn’t the kind of person who would accuse people of being that. Especially since her mother had been one, so who was she to judge?

Yet, it didn’t remove the issue. That the one important person in her life didn’t even consider her important. If he did, why did he keep doing those not-so-subtle gestures towards the blonde? And yet he said that he loved her.

He was just screwing around with her emotions - both she and the princess’s, she realized - because he couldn’t choose. And she was going to hell if she just kept letting it happen. Even so, she had no one. She would have nothing - would be alone if she didn’t have Finn anymore.

But then, when Jasper came staggering into the tent - not gracefully at all - and tried to cheer her up on Unity Day, she started to realize that maybe she was wrong. That she wouldn’t be alone at all, that she could be done with Finn once and for all. All she needed to do was stop relying on herself and open up to the other Delinquents around her. Because this was them now, they needed each other in order to survive on Earth.

And she was better than Finn; she could get past it all and not let the jealousy consume her. All she needed to do was start caring about other people.

And maybe she could start with Jasper - the adventurous dork that he was - because at the end of the day, he wanted to be her friend and wanted to help her out. But more importantly, he seemed to actually care about her happiness.

Even if his stupid drunken-ass breath smelled of moonshine.


	3. we shall destroy, and the light will show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an on-going collection of 100 drabbles for the ships of the 100.  
> For deviantArt's 100 themes challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 Themes Challenge:
> 
> 3\. Light

The princess was on a different plain as him, because despite all the shit that she had done, despite all the shit she was going to do and how many times she would fuck up, she would still be loved. She would be forgiven of them because she had to do what they needed to survive, because this wasn't her.

He was different.

Bellamy was different because despite all the things he would do for their sake, despite all the things he would do to make up for it and how many times he would try to make things right, he would still be hated - be feared. He would never be exalted of all the things that were bad about him, all the bad things he would always have to do because the good never outweighed the bad. Because this was always who he was.

His own sister now looked at him with hatred, a deep-rooted, stubborn hatred towards him and he regretted what he said to her because he knew they would’ve never left her mind, that everyday they would’ve revolved around her mind because he had dug himself a deep hole that he would never be able to get himself out of. This was who he was, a bastard of a man. If he couldn't receive love from even Octavia, then why the fucking hell would he deserve anything good to happen to him?

And yet, when Clarke smiled at him, everything filled with warmth and acceptance, he could actually believe the illusion that she could actually care about him - that she did. That she didn't judge him like the rest of the Delinquents did, the knowing dark looks thrown towards him everyday at camp, ones that they thought he didn't see. That she could share her laughter with him freely and confide in him about things that she couldn't with anyone else.

But when the princess's eyes were alive with a blazing savage fire - when she shouted at him, stood up to him and took the first shot in shooting that sniper rifle - he had to remember the reality of it all. That even she, of all the people in his life, could never forgive the sins stuck fast in his skin. He was corrupted - filthy with a malfeasance that not even the seaweed water could wash out. 

However, still she had offered him penance - and he had grasped at it like it was air, like he was lost, alone in the dark and she was blinding light at the end of the tunnel. Because she was a glowing shooting star, a streak that was fading into the shadows deeper and deeper she went with him. Every single time they were together, who she needed to be was consuming who she was - the two things slowly becoming one and not for the better.

And he was selfish enough to no longer care that he was dragging her down with him, filling her with wickedness and replacing the light inside of her with darker, cruel things.

As long as the princess was there to rescue him.


	4. there is no reason, born in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an on-going collection of 100 drabbles for the ships of the 100.  
> For deviantArt's 100 themes challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 Themes Challenge:
> 
> 4\. Dark

Her hair was shiny in the moonlight but the colour of the night sky above them as she stared up at the stars, twinkling in and out.

Something about it seemed beautiful, almost as if she was enjoying the peace and quiet. He swallowed as he continued to look at her - unable to comprehend how he had gotten himself into a situation where he would be sitting with such a pretty yet determined girl beside him.

Octavia turned her head, shadowed eyes meeting his as she noticed the looks he was giving her, pressing her lips together.

"What you looking at, huh?"

"You. Y-You're beautiful"

She didn't speak for a couple of minutes, not moving, that he almost thought that she was ignoring him and it made his wretched heart ache.

But then she scooted closer to him across the grass, the faint rustling as loud as gunshots in his ears. Slowly and a little bit awkwardly, she rested her head against his shoulder, tendrils of dark hair tickling against his cheek as he rested head against hers.

They both stared in silence for what seemed like hours as the night carried on around them, and all they could do was watch. A breeze disturbed the still air for a couple of seconds, sending a flash of cold ice down his spine as it pierced his clothes and he felt her shiver against him - but Jasper guessed these chills didn't just come from the cold.

"Hey, do you think they'll all make it down to the ground?" Octavia asked, the corners of her green eyes staring up at him.

"I don't know, really. But I think Jaha will try as hard as he can to get all of the Ark onto Earth."

"But what about the Grounders? Anya’s tribe poses a threat to all of us and they are going to be attacking soon"

“Well, we can wait for the backup and toast our last few days of peace with moonshine”

The corners of her mouth quirked up into a slight smile and he returned it without hesitation. He didn't reply though, just wrapped an arm around her body as he wished that this could last forever.


	5. solace some sign of forgiveness, some form of release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an on-going collection of 100 drabbles for the ships of the 100.  
> For deviantArt's 100 themes challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 Themes Challenge:
> 
> 5\. Seeking Solace

"Raven!"

Her name escaped his mouth without permission, without him even thinking as he ran towards her, cursing under his breath as the image of her clutching at her bloody side became clearer with each step. Bellamy had been careless in thinking she was okay, that he dismissed Murphy shooting at the floor so quickly and look what it did.

Reaching her before Finn or Clarke, he lifted her easily into his arms, careful in supporting her back as he turned to face the rest of them. He saw Finn's face full of concern and worry, the same matching expression on all the others faces as his brown eyes found Clarke's.

“Murphy shot her.” Jasper stated, his eyes kept straight on his dark-skinned friend and he moved closer to Bellamy, maybe thinking that him being near her would help with the pain and the fact that blood was bleeding out of her wound this very second, despite Raven’s hand was pressed hard against it.

"Get her into the drop ship" Clarke ordered, and he moved towards it but suddenly she reached out a hand and placed it on his arm, stilling him, as she seemed to change her mind for a moment. He sensed Finn's presence at his side, knowing that he was offering to take Raven inside instead but he still held her in his arms. Finn had caused too much pain in her life already, and Bellamy wanted to take responsibility for this, for getting her hurt in the crossfire.

It was the least he could do.

"Clarke" Bellamy started, his throat tight and threatening to close on him as the princess looked at him, her face wild and set. He didn’t want her to make this mistake, the same one he had made with Murphy, “Leaving here is a mistake” And plus, where would they go? They would be safer here than they would be anywhere else. This was their home and they were going up and leave? It was what the Grounders wanted, he was sure of it.

But now, he realized, they couldn’t leave like this, with Raven hurt. It would take at least a week for her to get better from her wounds and now, they had no time to up and go if Clarke was going to help her. They had to stay, at least for Raven’s stake and because it was the right decision, not Clarke’s decision to be buddy-buddy and go live with the grounders at the fucking ocean.

“The decision has been made” Her voice was unwavering, every word pronounced with purpose as she didn’t lose eye contact. She was her own person; she was the co-leader of these people whose very existence hinged on their decisions. He felt the respect for her, for this but no; this wasn’t the way things were supposed to go.

“Crowds make bad decisions, just ask Murphy!” That was the one things he had learned today, because despite how spiteful and revenge hungry that guy was, he had a good point. It was fault for letting the crowd decide to hang Murphy, which was supposed to be his job to do, to choose. It was the reason why the girl in his arms right now was hurt. “Leaders do what they think is right”

And staying here, defending themselves in the camp – their home – was the right thing to do, for all of them.

“I am,” Those two words, said less fervently than what she had said before, with a softness that he was surprised to feel, shut everything he said down. She wouldn’t change her mind because she – he now knew – was doing what she thought was right for all of them. Was it right for Raven and Monty as well, he wondered, was she thinking of them?

With nothing left to say - that, he knew, was a complete and utter lie - Bellamy rushed into the drop ship as a hissed cry of pain came from Raven, capturing his attention. He did this to her, he was the one who let himself be distracted with the bullshit coming out of Murphy's mouth.

Because of course it'd be her that would lead the rescue, after telling him about the loose panel at the back. Her and Jasper, he reminded himself, the two who made him realize today that you just don't abandon each other. That keeping everyone safe was the most important responsibility as a leader.

He didn't keep Raven safe, he'd failed at keeping her safe.

This is what he thought as he placed her body onto the metal table - only earlier today had it been occupied by Miles, dying and in pain - and heard the tell-tale sound of plastic being lifted as he stepped away, catching the determined yet tired blue gaze of the princess before they both looked down.

Raven's breathing was shallow, the rise and fall of her chest almost inconceivable to discern but the groans that filled the silence told him that this was real, that Raven had been shot. Her face, he remembered the last time he saw it some hours ago, filled with the same determination as Clarke's and a spark, was now screwed up in pain, her eyes closed firmly shut as if she could block all of it out.

"Is it bad?" Bellamy asked, as her skilled hands pressed around the sticky wounded area - earning herself a groan from the mechanic. He tried to keep the genuine worry out of his voice, putting on the whole leader bravado but, by the confused and annoyed sideways look Clarke gave him, she wasn't buying it all. Or maybe she just knew him better than he had originally thought.

Even though he had slept with Raven (and he had lied then too, about talking her down), that even though just a few weeks before they had been at each others throats, wanting nothing to do with each other, that they had hated each other - he still cared about her. Lately, their relationship began to change into something akin to friendship. He trusted her.

"It looks pretty bad but it isn't. The bullet has exited clean, so it's not inside her. And there are no signs of shrapnel being present as well, so there is no risk of her getting blood poisoning. Overall, Raven's lucky" Clarke informed him, using that slow voice that she got when she was in her doctor mode, in that zone. He nodded at that but the hardened line his mouth made showed how he was really feeling.

And what he was feeling right now was shit. He was feeling shitty about everything, even if Raven was in the clear, even if the wounds would heal just fine.

"Bellamy, you don't have to be here for this" Clarke said, as she made small movements to get the equipment she needed in order to heal her. It was an echo of what he had said before in a completely different situation and how had they changed from that time, how they had grown and realized how serious their positions as leaders were.

He almost did leave, it wasn't his place to stay here by her side until Clarke was finished - that was Finn's job to do but he somehow doubted that the pacifist would stay here long. He had to remember that the two of them broke up, that Raven came to him for rebound sex, or whatever it had been. But he ground his teeth and stayed where he was.

"I'm not leaving Raven until you finish helping her" Bellamy needed to be here for Raven’s sake, for all the shit he had put her through and more. Maybe she had been better off leaving the Delinquents, in running away from her ex-boyfriend who had caused her so much pain since coming to the ground. He owed it to her; he owed it to Raven Reyes, the youngest Zero G mechanic in 52 years on the Ark.

It was the least he could do, it was the best form of solace he could offer right now.


	6. if I could break away, cut the cord for better or worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an on-going collection of 100 drabbles for the ships of the 100.  
> For deviantArt's 100 themes challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 Themes Challenge:
> 
> 6\. Break Away

The curling viper in his stomach had once been there, spitting fire and fueling his hatred towards Griffin and Jaha (his hatred, his beef towards him – not really, his lying father – was something every Delinquent knew) because here they were while his father had begged for mercy but all he got was death.

The hangman’s knot around his neck had been the last straw, unleashing the burning inferno within because he hated injustice above everything else and yet here, they went ahead and let the fucking brat Charlotte walk free while everyone wanted his blood.

The phantom pain of the rope had been clear as day, would’ve never left him and yet he never expected to be set free of Death’s embrace by the princess.

He shouldn’t have been grateful for the chance to draw another breath, he should have hated her for this and yet he couldn’t, he didn’t. The once burning fire had been snuffed out, suffocated and let the darkness replace it instead. So darkness he became and the bitter revenge, the thirst for blood was all directed at Bellamy. He did this to him – battered, bruised and beaten over a false accusation and he received no apology, just coldness and the icy acceptance of his exile.

* * *

 

That was the princess’s idea and he marvelled at it because Murphy knew that she should want him dead the most. Death should have been her option but there was something foreboding about exile. You saw executions coming but not survival. 

He returned after a few weeks, pain and dried blood was all he felt now – an emptiness in the wretched cavity of a chest where he knew his stone heart was suppose to beat. 

 

* * *

 

The princess saw him as a wounded animal, and he was, cowering in a corner with bloody hands protecting him. It hurt, everything hurt and he could barely speak let alone breathe. She touched him with mercy and a velvet gentleness Murphy never expected from her, to ever receive and she told the truth, the reason behind the state of his nail-less fingers. Bellamy looked like he wanted to kill him and he wished he did, that Death’s embrace could’ve welcome him.

It would’ve been absolute bliss compared to what the Grounders had done to him. They had broken John Murphy and left in his stead a shell full of darkness that was ever consuming.

As she treated him – the water cool, burning against his torn skin – he watched her in motion, how skilled she was, a confidence in herself that he never saw before. Hating her before seemed so stupid now, as she wiped up the blood he threw up – one of the few not affected by the virus he plagued upon them.

After a while (in between treating him and so many others in the drop ship) she stopped in the middle of disinfecting his fingers and looked at him with clear blue eyes, wide and deep. 

“Why was your dad floated?” Clarke asked softly, gaging his reaction as his own blue eyes - darker and emptier, like the depths of the ocean – avoided her gaze and fixed itself onto a random scrap of metal. Somehow, the memory was still stuck fast and managed to twist its blade into his gut further but her continued silence and complete attention made him the most uncomfortable.

“He…” The rasped word took some effort as he wetted his lips; his throat dry and scratched, but the surprised look on her face at him speaking was worth it. The ever-vigilant brave princess caught off guard for once. “H-He stole some… medicals.” His breathing sped up after the endeavour (in the past, he once had a way with words, an effortlessness with speaking his mind without a care) but she seemed satisfied with it, continuing with her work.

Except the sting now doesn’t seem so bad.

Nothing seems so bad, as the sun went down and the loud chatter reduced down to a low hum as most of the patients were lured into the sweet temptation of sleep.

Except Murphy 

He helped the princess because she has somehow changed something about him but above everything else, she was the first person to treat him like a proper human being in what had seemed like forever.

And he was okay with that.


	7. cause I'm holding onto heaven, when I breathe and it's only you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an on-going collection of 100 drabbles for the ships of the 100.  
> For deviantArt's 100 themes challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 Themes Challenge:
> 
> 6\. Heaven

Raven Reyes looked as beautiful as the starlight and heavens above. He’d be damned if he ever told her that to her face though, because she was more than ephemeral touches. She was iron claws and wild fire, born to survive in the wilderness on Earth. 

Smart, sarcastic and complex. 

Even fucking her was so basically complicated, making her moan and leave scratch marks trailing along his back. He knew that for a fact – She, after all, had made their “one night stand” more than an one time thing. She kept coming back, to lose herself and escape. Escape from the war or to escape from Finn, both were plausible reasons when it came to Raven Reyes.

And even then, she hardly lost her stubborn control and delicately placed façade, even in the middle of ecstasy (hers or theirs, Bellamy didn’t know). But in those rare moments, where she would arch her back and close her eyes, he caught glimpses of the chinks in her armour that was hardened like a second skin. The shifts of her face as pleasure howled in her blood showed more vulnerability than he would ever normally see.

Her hair, down and flowing, splayed behind her shoulders like a fan. And in the torchlight, his eyes played tricks on him with the shadows. In the right moment, those black strands were feathers and night sky wings were spread apart, perched between her shoulder blades.

She would be ready to take flight and embrace her freedom that she was born for, to live in the heavens and twinkling stars. The same material that she was crafted from forged and rising from phoenix flames – leaving smoke and the metallic smell of blood in her thunderous wake.

She was captivating, perfectly poised in the throes of pleasure. An untamed, beautiful creature to behold, a raven so dark it was breath-taking and unlike anything he had ever seen in his entire life.

Of course, he would never tell her this and he’d be damned if he did. But may he’ll slip up one night, with or without moonshine, while they are alone or in front of every one of their Delinquents and tell the goddamn mechanic how much she was truly worth. 

Worth more than the stars, the burning sun and the sweet oxygen in every breath they took. Worth more than guilt in his chest, the heartache she carried around with her or all the shit they had been put through so far. 

To him, Raven Reyes was worth everything.


	8. young girl, wild-eyed, first love, one time innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an on-going collection of 100 drabbles for the ships of the 100.  
> For deviantArt's 100 themes challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 Themes Challenge:
> 
> 8\. Innocence

She doesn’t know where they stand.

She knows about gravitational forces that pull objects; about building makeshift bombs from nothing and gunpowder; about how life is unfair from day one and that the Ark never made it any better; about the fact that she damn well is the youngest Zero G mechanic in 52 fucking years (but where did that get her in the end?) and that she gave away her heart to a boy who didn’t know what to do with it, really. 

Yet, in the twisted logic of how the universe turns on its axis, she doesn’t know where she and Bellamy Blake stand.

It was hate at first sight, the beginning of their warped fairytale because of that damn radio. Because he was stupidly selfish enough to let people die rather than face his sins. But he’s the rebel king; he’s not supposed to be living some redemption arc. So instead, it was a hand around her throat and a knife edge against his, and they knew who would win. Because who would want to miss the big bad wolf taking on the omen of death, really? 

(A familiar concept, people dying is an unavoidable certainty in their world of death traps and ruthless hunters)

(They didn’t kill each other, though hatred flowed through both of theirs veins and soon enough they were more similar than they first thought. Coming down to the ground for love – his sister, her Finn – would do that to you)

When did she begin to trust this man of knife-edges and guarded love? When did he begin to trust her, all darkness and barbed wires with scattered rose petals and thorns at her feet? It was because of Finn, she thinks. Finn, the mediator between two kindred supernovas, someone that Bellamy cared enough about to nearly kill a man to save him.

(Until she stepped in and made sparks shower against a human body. Somewhere in the back of her heart where her morals lie tell her this is, but hadn’t she stopped caring long before then?)

And then the rest is history, most would say but she’s Raven Reyes and that would be a lie. It was between a touch of shoulder to stop him killing his sister’s boyfriend and him telling her in his own way that she mattered. She was a key part in the survival of their people; she was the hand where the king was the heart and the princess the mind. A beautiful system that functioned together as one because it kept them alive. Might as well throw themselves to the wolves if it didn’t. 

Fucking him had not been apart of the plan. The plan had been keeping her hands busy until the sight of Finn didn’t make her want to cry or kill the first person she sees because she has never been _that_ girl and didn’t want to be. 

But Bellamy Blake always finds a way, even when he said that he wasn’t _that_ guy.

And that talking her down wasn’t going to happen.

(Even with their chipped armour and stony faces, it still sort of happened and she didn’t like that at all)

So she ends up riding him because if it’s he knows about her, is that she doesn’t like to be dominated by other people. She’s the youngest Zero G mechanic in 52 fucking years; no one can stop someone like her because there’s no one in the world like her.

And she has mastered the art of cynicism, so why did she ever think that fucking him would even help?

(And despite everything; despite how much they are supposed to hate each other, he cared. He asked if it helped and that one glimpse made him like Finn in that moment, and it made it worse. Wasn’t she supposed to be getting over him? So she left, because no, it didn’t. How could it when she was seeing her ex-boyfriend in his polar opposite?) 

Fucking him hadn’t been apart of the plan yet it brought them closer together. It’s funny how that happens, when not long ago he was inside her and now he was apologizing to her, showing how much he cares. 

He’s the heart of the group and she’s the hand making sure they have a chance at surviving. There was nothing they could do but wait for Clarke and Finn. Wait for a divine intervention to show them the way. 

Instead, all they got was fucking Murphy and then it was saving Jasper, then Bellamy. And that’s where she fails, where her genius mind falters because John Murphy is a cold hearted and ruthless son of a bitch who knows how to shoot a gun. When she gets shot bad, she wonders at how she would literally take a bullet for Bellamy. Pain is shooting up her spine and blood spilling from her fingers but the bitterness isn’t there. Expects disgust at her sacrifices but that’s not the case. Despite the ghosts and demons, despite his bad, there is good in that man and that means today, Bellamy Blake doesn’t die – he gets to live.

And that’s a good thing, because God has there been a lot of deaths on their hands lately, so she gets save someone for once. 

And for one selfish moment, where she stumbles and cries out in pain, where Bellamy’s voice is laced with concern and worry, because somewhere along their complicated relationship he considers her one of his own rather than a means to an end, she feels satisfactions in the hellish pain. He runs towards her, even.

(Though they all do and seeing that Clarke and Finn are okay makes her happy because they are still in all of this together) 

What follows that is death and destruction wrapped in one pretty burnt bow of hellfire.

So between the status quo of being enemies, mutual, lovers and friends, she doesn’t _really_ know where they stand at all. Respect and trust are already there, but everything else? It’s a mess that her hands can’t fix.

So maybe she doesn’t love him the way she loved Finn – the familiarity of it wrapping around her – or the way she loves Jasper and Monty, easy as breathing. She doesn’t know the way he feels for her the way she could tell black from white, a pressure valve from a safety valve. That truth stays there, waiting for the reality to come her way. 

But she isn’t innocent, and ignorance isn’t bliss. She’s not the little bird her mother had failed to love, nor is she the little girl Finn had grew up with. She knows what she feels.

(And yeah, maybe it scares her just a little bit because wasn’t he supposed to be an one-night-stand? A way to get Finn off her mind?)

But the king has to make his move now.

And she was looking forward to it, no matter how the pieces fell.


	9. and I'm not coming home, I'm gonna drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an on-going collection of 100 drabbles for the ships of the 100.  
> For deviantArt's 100 themes challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 Themes Challenge:
> 
> 9\. Drive

“Slow down!” Raven shouted but the giggles that followed took away the seriousness of it all. The wind was rough against her skin and blew her hair all over the place as the streetlights glared against their eyes but she didn’t care. It was exhilarating, driving fast in the more rocky areas of Virginia.

Made her feel alive.

(She’s needed that a lot lately.)

“Never!” Finn yelled back with a grin on his face, letting out a whoop, as the car was nothing more but a dark silvery blur to others. The full moon looked beautiful, whole and white.

They were finally free from it all, free from the eyes of all those upperclass people who looked down on them. Even if it was only for the night, it was good enough. Good enough to drink in the fresh air, and adrenaline-pumping thrill. It felt good to be reckless compared to the confines of their home.

Clarke was their friend but she understood so lent them her car for the night of their young lives.

“I love you!" 

The phrase is nearly drowned out by the sound of the engine and the air whipping past but he still heard it all the same.

“I love you too!”

(And he meant it.)


	10. i am left hoping someday i'll breathe again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10\. Breathe Again

_“Jus drein jus daun.”_  

 

* * *

 ****

Clarke repeated the phrase over and over in her head, remembering the meaning, in hope of convincing herself. That this was the right thing to do, that it was justice. For peace and prosperity, for unity between Grounders and the Sky People. Blood must have blood, and it was a debt that must be paid with a life.

They would kill him, to save so many other lives.

Except she felt her heart suffocating inside her ribcage. She looked back at him and felt it slowly claw it’s way up to her throat.

“Can I say goodbye?” 

She choked the words out of her mouth, as she glanced at him. He stood tall, pinned to the pole, and although she couldn’t see his face, she could tell. He was guilty, sentenced to death, for the crime that he committed. That he was paying for, with his execution, right then and there. Clarke didn’t want to watch, didn’t even want to be here, but she had to. Had to see him, talk to him, one last time.

Brief seconds felt like lifetimes within themselves, as she watched Lexa and her dark eyes. She could feel the collective intake of breath, and she did it as well. Everyone was watching, waiting for her response. It was one simple request, a simple mercy. She hoped for at least that. 

And with a nod of Lexa’s head, she was granted it. 

Every step she took, away from Lexa, felt like a betrayal, like she was damning him to his death. It felt like knives cut away at her flesh, like a parasite eating her up from the inside out. The tension around her was thick, the air warm, but she felt cold as ice. She walked like she was inside a dream, except it was a nightmare. 

Was this what dying felt like? 

She could feel all of their eyes on her as she walked, that not only her friends but the Grounders as well followed her every movement, but it was his eyes that she wanted, and his were the last that climbed from their downcast position, but once they saw her, burning blue hues latched onto hers, and didn’t, _refused_ , to let go. 

This spurned her, and Clarke ran, catching the wonder and confusion on his face, before wrapping her arms around his neck, and crashed her lips into his.

She should’ve been angry with him, for the crime that he committed and deaths that he taken as his, but she couldn’t be. She was angry with the Grounders, for having taken him and tortured him. And she was angry at The Ark, for floating his father, and causing his mother grief. He had merely done what any loving father would’ve done - look out for their child.

Clarke knew how that felt better than _any_ of them.

His death made sense, the Grounders couldn’t let him live, knowing what he had done to their people. But he was her people, and so much more than that. He couldn’t die this way, not like this. Like an animal, like he wasn’t even a person.

They kissed with the same fire when they first had months ago, at the edge of the camp, where his lips had quirked up into a smirk, knowing he was right, and she had wanted to erase it off his face, and had wanted to know what his smile tasted like.

She could feel his body strain against the rope, hands tugging against his binds, and she had the sudden wish she could feel his hands once last time. Longed for his soothing touch, to run through her hair and tell her he was okay.

Instead, she was denied, and settled for _engraining_ the memory of his lips against hers in her mind, desperation overcoming her. They broke apart, reluctantly, and she felt wildly out of breath - like he was the air, and she could not get enough of him in her lungs. He was the air that she would kill to breathe.

His blue eyes looked at her with an intensity, all too familiar, but they were not angry. It was a wordless sign, that he had accepted his fate, that he knew he was going to die, that his was going to happen. Her heart ached, because it was the same look he had given when he had turned himself over to Lexa and her people, had not run away from it.

No amount of good that she had saw in him, could outweigh what he had done. Tears filled her eyes at that thought. It wasn’t enough, in the end. Her love for him couldn’t save his life, what they felt for each other wasn’t enough of a miracle.

Clarke’s gaze didn’t waver from his, his eyes steady and calm, almost uncharacteristically so. She didn’t pay attention to anything or anyone else but _him_.

She desperately hoped he knew, that he could tell, he was the sole reason that she was even standing here before them, unscathed and healthy. That he was the reason she was alive. She had the brief impulse to scream it from her lungs, to Lexa, and the Grounders, and everyone surrounding them. But she didn’t, she couldn’t.

It was an ephemeral relief, that he just looked at her, and knew. Almost like he could, was, reading the tempest of thoughts inside her head.

She could see no fear in his eyes, and she wished she could feel the same.

Clarke struggled to be strong, to be brave, in front of him, for his sake. She didn’t want him to die, she didn’t want him to suffer. He didn’t deserve their punishment, what they were going to do to him. Not like this.

“I love you.” Her voice cracked at the three words, and wanted to cry. Her heart ached, struggled, to do this. It was like she was dying alongside him, piece by piece, bleeding out slowly from an uncauterized wound. She remembers the last time she saw her Dad, and hurts at the memory. That the same was going to happen to him.

His face softened, before crumbling between them. The facade was gone, and the desperation, the need, the guilt, the regret - all of it showed on his face, knowing that everyone’s eyes were on them.

He didn’t care if he looked weak, or if they thought he was weak. He didn’t feel weak, he never did with her.

“Clarke…” He breathed, and it’s a sound that made her almost _collapse_. He knew it, could see it, in the depths of her wide blue eyes. He wished that he could cup her face and brush away her tears, the pain so open on her face. All he had was his words, and the taste of her burning on his lips, imprinted in him in his final moments. “Don’t do this to yourself. I’ve accepted it.”

He didn’t know whether or not he was comforting himself, as well as her. 

She nodded repeatedly, her expression still watery, and he was convinced that she understood. She knew, just as well as he did, that this was how it was supposed to be. It ended no other way than this. He deserved this punishment, a life for the lives that he took. It was the right thing. He knew that, valued justice far more than anyone besides her knew. 

And this was what justice was.

“I know- I- I know but…” Her voice trailed off, and suddenly she threw her arms around his torso, holding him close and clutching tight like her life depended on it. The fine line between logic and insanity, and she felt like she was starting to tip to the latter. In these last moments, her caution and sense of right was being dashed to the wind. Because of him, because of their ‘us’. “I just… I can’t lose you too.”

He wished he could fucking wrap his arms around and hold her tight. He fucking wished that so bad in this single moment. Her touched burn like fire, liked it could consume all his sins, and what he had done, and leave behind the good she somehow saw in him.

She was his miracle, his one in six billion, his second chance.

Through the bad, Clarke was able to see the good as well, when no one else could. When no one else wanted to, they hadn’t wanted to trust him, didn’t believe in him. Until the princess came around, and saved him.

“I love you too, Clarke Griffin.” He whispered in her ear, closing his eyes, and breathed her in, resting his head against the crook of her neck. The smell of Earth, of flowers, and leaves and trees - of their new life.

And then herself, that distinct smell of cinnamon and vanilla, holding onto it for dear life. Desperately drowning in it, and not caring if he suffocated on it. Much like her love, and it choked his lungs, and it hurt.

He doesn’t mind that, because hurting, feeling pain, meant that at least he’s alive. He wasn’t dead yet, he was allowed to cling on for just a little bit longer.

He could hear - feel - her breath hitch in her throat, and moved his head to press a kiss against her cheek. _It’s going to be okay_ , he tried to convey, but that was far from the truth. 

She cried, sobbing against his chest, freeing the pain, the sound from her chest. Tears blurred her vision, as she held him closer. Clarke struggled to breathe, and didn’t care that people saw her.

She was tired of being strong, of having to hold things together, and pretend she was okay when she wasn’t. She tried to gasp for air, tried to force it inside her lungs but she couldn’t find a reason to, and didn’t have the strength to.

She had to get through this, she  _had_ to. 

Clarke’s chest ached, and she felt raw, the paining opening old wounds and creating new ones, and it’s her despair about what’s going to happen she makes known to the world. She forced those around her to know, to realize and understand, the sacrifices she was making.

It was love that drove her to make these sacrifices, but it was that same love that almost made her take it all back, and slice open Lexa’s throat.

 _Almost._  

Her sobs quietened down, and she choked on a sob, as she pulled back and looked up at him. He lifted his head, mussed dark hair framing his gaze, and his soft looks. More goodbyes were exchanged between them, and she was determined not to say the word. It would be too much.

She blinked, trying to brush away the tears, and promised herself, and him, that she would never forget him. And she could never, he was apart of her much like she was apart of him.

It was with this thought Clarke finally said goodbye. She embraced him, again, feeling his thundering heartbeat against her own, and knew it matched her own. She choked again, trying to get the words out that she need to do. She _needed_ to do this.

“I love you, John Murphy.”

She could almost see him smile at the words, his lips curling up in such a familiar way that left her with fleeting relief, and devastating sadness. But this was it, this was their goodbye. Murphy had accepted his fate, his death, and finally, so had she.

They looked at each for one final time, blue hues drowning in each other’s skies, before she leaned her head against his chest, closing her eyes. His body was warm against hers, and Clarke could hear nothing but his breathing, and his heartbeat. And her own stilled in her throat, for one peaceful, uncharacteristic moment.

 _It was enough_.

She breathed in, and plunged the knife into Murphy’s side.

 

* * *

 

_“Blood must have blood.”_

 


End file.
